Man of Sin
by let's point out the obvious
Summary: -"After all, Kyle, god bless him, had always held a certain attraction to the powers of evil." A crackfic involving antichrist-Kyle, sex, confusion, and Satanic critters. Possible Stan/Kyle. At least one-sided Kyle/Stan.


Oh god the crack.

I have no idea why this story popped into my head, or why I ended up writing so much for it. I started it with the intention of creating a silly little smut piece, and now I'm plotting out additional chapters with real, actual completely insane plot. Ridiculous. The alternate title of this story, which was too long, is "The Incredibly Gay and Probably Sacrilegious Trials of Stan Marsh."

Anyway...enjoy the silliness. There is quite possibly more to come.

South Park does not belong to me.

* * *

.

After just over nineteen years of living in South Park, Stan was willing to believe just about anything. So when Eric Cartman showed up on his doorstep, out of breath and possibly terrified, wheezing something about Kyle accepting the critter anti-christ "For reals Stan- I'm so seriously," Stan had no choice but to trek into the woods in search of his supposedly possessed friend. After all, Kyle, god bless him, had always held a certain attraction to the powers of evil. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Kyle was the type of person to take the side of whoever offered the greatest chance of fulfillment of his goals. His heart was most certainly in the right place throughout everything he did, and despite the strangeness of it, Stan could easily imagine Kyle accepting demon-spawn into his soul if it would bring about something good, like world peace, for instance.

Even though he did have to wonder just what the hell Christmas critters were doing out in March.

.

.

.

Deep in the woods, far from the edge of Stark's pond, Stan first caught sight of Kyle and the critters, and was glad that he hadn't given Cartman too much trouble about this. He'd hate to have to swallow his words.

After hearing his best friend's voice shouting, giving a speech of some kind, from a couple hundred feet back, Stan had followed the sound to a small clearing. There, where the snow left over from February had already melted, he hid behind a tree and watched the satanic scene before him.

Kyle stood perched atop a stump, surrounded by tiny, furry fanatics.

"Death to the infidel!" He cried excitedly, and the animals answered with a cheer, "The age of light ends now! Let us bring forth a thousand years of pain! The reign of the dark one is-"

He stopped, looking suddenly in Stan's direction, although Stan was sure he hadn't made a noise to give himself away.

"Oh," Kyle said, "Hey dude."

The animals all looked at him too and, with a frustrated sigh, Stan stepped out from behind the tree and into the clearing, "Hey."

Kyle, though for some reason shirtless and decorated with a red pentagram, looked about the same as usual, and not particularly demonic. There were no hooves or horns, wings, or a spiked tail. Only his eyes, normally a warm brown that reflected light in a friendly, expressive way, had changed. Now they glowed a pulsing stovetop red. Stan thought that as far as demonic features went, they were pretty lame, and that they powers of darkness could have done better- at least splurged on some black flames and shit.

"Behold," Kyle said, gesturing toward Stan as he turned back to face the Christmas critters, "The sacrificial lamb!"

The animals cheered again and Stan couldn't help but be a little nervous. Kyle was his best friend, and Stan trusted him with his life, but on principle he generally tried to stay away from people who referred to him as a "sacrificial" anything. But since this was Kyle, Stan ignored his instinct to run, instead taking a step toward his friend.

"Dude, what's going on?" He asked, trying to ignore the lingering stare of the critters, "Why the hell are these things here?" He thought that they'd left the Christmas critters back in Imaginationland with every other fucked up, annoying nuisance from the past.

Kyle watched him for a moment, then hopped down off his stump podium, landing gracefully and straightening out before shrugging his shoulders.

"Dunno, dude. Some kind of crossover between here and the imagination. A leak or something."

Stan nodded slowly in understanding. Yeah, that made sense. Sort of.

"Are we gonna sacrifice him now, master?" Asked a fuzzy something that Stan assumed was a chipmunk.

Stan's stomach flipped in fear and he looked to Kyle, who simply rolled his eyes, apparently annoyed.

"_We're_ not sacrificing anything." He said.

Stan wasn't sure quite how to feel about that statement.

"Aww…" The critters droned in disappointed unison. One, a pudgy little bear, asked, "But…how're we gonna summon a thousand years of pain if we don't got no sacrifice?"

"That's right y'all," said a chipper squirrel, "The blood of the sacrificial lamb must be spilled to signal the start of Beelzebub's reign!"

"We just gotta have a blood sacrifice!" chirped a tiny bird imploringly.

"Chill, fleabags." Kyle snapped, "You'll get your fuckin' apocalypse."

There was another cheer and Stan shivered.

"Dude," he said, almost pleading. So help him god, if anybody came near him with an ancient dagger or a motherfucking crucifix, he'd shit a brick.

Kyle cast a glance his way, as if to say, "Seriously dude, chill."

Stan tried to remain calm.

"Now be gone, minions," Kyle said grandly, "I must attend to the first half of the ritual!"

Becoming even more antsy and excited by the news, the critters ignored Kyle's order in favor of asking a string of delighted questions.

"Oh, can't we stay and watch?"

"Is he gonna scream a whole lot?"

"Do you need help tying him up?"

"Are you gonna use his blood as lubricant?"

"What!?" Stan cried, backing up fast until his shoulder struck a tree.

"Oh, you gotta use his blood as lubricant!"

"Yeah, makes it nice and slick!"

Kyle's voice cut through the questions, angry and loud, "No, I'm not using his blood as lubricant!" The animals had time to let out another collective, "aww" before Kyle screeched, "Now get the fuck out of here!"

The critters yelped in fear and turned tail, heading toward denser forest.

"Wait," Kyle said, and the critters all stopped and looked up expectantly, "You," Kyle pointed at a fox who looked like he might faint from joy, "Bring me what I had you all fetch earlier."

"Yes, master!" The fox squeaked, "Sure thing! No problem! You've got it!"

A harsh look from Kyle sent the fox, and the rest of them, scurrying away. Once they were gone Kyle turned back to Stan to say, "Relax dude. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Stan, shill quite shaken from everything he'd just heard, did not relax, "Lubricant!?"

Kyle looked mildly embarrassed, "Yeah…" He shook his head, dismissing something, though Stan wasn't sure what.

"Tell me what's going on." Stan said, a note less panicked than he'd been moments ago. Even when he was putting Stan in a potentially dangerous situation, Kyle's presence had a calming effect on him.

"The long and short of it," Kyle said, coming closer, "Is that Cartman dragged me out here to commune with Christmas critters, to prove that they were really here," He paused to frown for a moment, probably still pissed that Cartman had been right about something, "And as soon as the little bastards realized I was the kid from his twisted Christmas story they jumped me and asked if I wanted to try being the anti-Christ for real."

Of course, Stan thought, leave it to Cartman to fuck things up for the rest of them.

"And you said yes." he said, offering Kyle a blank expression.

Kyle smiled, abashed, "I'm not gonna bring about Armageddon or anything, but…yeah. I didn't really have a choice, so I figured I'd just make the most of it. Besides," His smile widened, "I wanted the power." He ignored Stan's eye rolling and went on, "Just imagine what I could do with the power of the underworld at my fingertips, the things I could accomplish. I could do _anything_,Stan, _change_ anything! I could make the world a better place!"

Stan looked at him dubiously, but finally allowed himself to relax. Kyle wasn't going to hurt him or anyone else, he was just trying to take over the world a little.

"Ahuh…" Stan said, notably less enthusiastic about the possibility of a new world order than Kyle was, "And…what are your powers, exactly?"

Kyle winced slightly, "I…don't really have any yet. But I'll get them soon." He looked Stan over, searching him for something, "I'm gonna need your help with that, actually."

Kyle spoke in the tone of someone who was about to broach a difficult subject, but before Stan could prompt him to continue they were interrupted by a tiny, "Umm."

They both turned to see the fox from before, standing off to the side of the clearing with a small silver platter clutched in its paws. It twitched its nose and said, "Many pardons, oh bringer of darkness. I have the, uh, the item you requested."

From his current location, Stan couldn't see what the platter held- something small and, maybe plastic? It was hard to make out.

"Thanks," Kyle said, sounding genuinely pleased, then, "Just leave it over there. You may go."

The fox bowed and placed the platter on the ground, then left, bowing again and again as he went.

This kind of power was going to go to Kyle's head, Stan was sure.

Now critter free, the two friends stood in silence for a while, an awkward aura surrounding them. Stan noticed, once again, that Kyle was half-naked, and instantly felt bad. His friend was standing out here in the cold, exposed, while he waltzed around in his nice, warm coat. Stan quickly undid the buttons and slipped the coat off his shoulders, holding it out to Kyle, who looked confused even as he smiled. He made no move to take the coat, and Stan frowned in annoyance.

"Aren't you cold?" Stan asked slowly, like he was talking to a stupid person. Kyle finally took the coat, then dropped it onto the ground beside him.

"The fuck, dude-" Stan started, then stopped short as Kyle's hand pressed against his chest. He gasped at the heat radiating off his friend's skin, sinking through the fabric of his t-shirt to spread warmth through his body.

"I don't get cold now." Kyle said, almost giddy, "I won't get _sick_ now."

Stan met Kyle's eyes and swallowed back any exclamation of shock that might have slipped out. Thirst for power aside, he could see now why Kyle would want inhuman powers. For sickly, diabetic Kyle, to not be sick anymore would be nothing short of wonderful. Hell, if Stan could get rid of his asthma by making a pact with the devil- well, okay, he wouldn't do that. But it'd be damn tempting.

"You…" Stan swallowed again, unsure of how to respond, "You're _hot_ dude. Freakishly hot." Burning up, practically, "What the fuck did they do to you?"

Kyle laughed lightly and Stan could have sworn he saw him blush. Kyle's other hand came to rest alongside the one already on Stan's chest, drawing another gasp from him. Stan's body fought against itself, flinching away from Kyle's touch while simultaneously straining toward the offered heat. The chill near-spring air was raising goosebumps on his arms, making him long for warmth. He looked down at his coat on the ground and asked, "Can I have that back?"

Kyle shook his head, then kissed him gently, and Stan wasn't particularly surprised.

He'd known that Kyle was playing for the other team since his best friend told him back in tenth grade, and while he'd never suspected Kyle of liking _him_, and although Kyle had never shown any signs to contradict Stan's belief, the notion that Kyle might kiss him wasn't too foreign.

Stan didn't return the kiss, holding his breath until Kyle moved away, looking slightly disappointed.

"Tell me what's going on, "Stan repeated, his tone soft but demanding, "What is this?"

Kyle reached up to stroke his cheek, making Stan shiver and bite his tongue to keep from making a noise. His skin was _so_ hot, it couldn't possibly be healthy.

"I'm going to need your help to get my powers," Kyle explained, "I need you to be my sacrifice."

Stan tensed at the word and Kyle calmed him with another gentle stroking motion, "I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. We just have to have sex is all."

"Oh." Stan said.

Oh?

Kyle claimed that they had to have sex and he chose to respond with _oh_? Stan's brain seized and after a few seconds' pause a hot blush crept up into his face, warming his cheeks till he could barely feel the difference in temperature between himself and Kyle.

"Aw…aww, dude!" Stan leaned back away from Kyle, pressing himself against the tree he'd bumped into earlier, "Dude, no, we can't- we…dude!"

Kyle's hands slipped from his chest and the moment the air met the spot where they'd been, Stan shivered. Fuck, that was cold, so much colder than he remembered. Now essentially backed into a corner, Stan had no way to keep Kyle from sliding his hands up to his neck instead, resting his fingers against Stan's pulse. Warmth raced through his body, carried along by the blood passing through the artery Kyle was ever so gently tapping with the pad of one finger, and Stan whimpered.

"Dude, seriously." He said, but his voice sounded much weaker than he intended. When Kyle's lips grazed his again, Stan could barely put up the resistance he intended. He made a small noise of protest, but once Kyle's tongue coaxed his lips into parting, there was no going back. Kyle seemed to be all over him at once, his hands constantly slipping from one curve or corner of Stan's body to the next, moving over, then under fabric, eliciting small, breathy noises whenever they made contact. Most of the noises Stan made were lost against Kyle's tongue as it wrestled with his own, and he was thankful for that. The friendly rivalry that he and Kyle kept up expressly forbid signs of weakness, as friendly rivalries between boys often did, and so much as a moan would earn Stan a lifetime of mockery.

Unfortunately Stan would have to learn to live with that mockery, because as Kyle broke the kiss to allow Stan a moment to breath, he closed his lips gently around Stan's tongue, sucking in just such a way as to make Stan shudder and groan aloud. Kyle smirked and paused to rest his forehead against Stan's. The heat against his skin reminded Stan of the times he was sick as a child, and his mother would lean her forehead against his to check for fever, only now it was reversed. Kyle was feverish, and Stan knew there was no amount of cold medicine and feel-better hugs that could get the heat out of him.

"Kyle," Stan said quietly, almost desperately, "We _can't_ do this…it's just…it's a bad idea for _so_ many reasons. I mean, forget the fucking Christmas critters, dude, what about our friendship? We can't risk fucking things up for…for this….whatever the hell this is!"

Kyle closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nudged Stan's forehead gently, nuzzling against him. He opened his eyes, meeting Stan's, and the intensity in his gaze made the totally gay fire-eyes trick seem almost scary.

"But Stan," He said softly, his voice something akin to sultry, "I'm so _hot_."

If Stan had been fighting the reality of the hard on he was sporting for his best friend before, it was at this point that denial became impossible. He was achingly hard from the heat of Kyle's touch, the uncharacteristic sex kitten purr of his voice, and when Kyle's hand slipped down the length of his body to brush the front of his jeans, Stan very nearly came.

Apparently Kyle could tell exactly how much restraint was being employed, because he laughed out loud. "Oh, dude," He said, smiling widely, "This is going to be _so_ much fun."

Stan didn't have time to get in a response before Kyle's lips were on his again, followed by teeth, followed by much too cold air as those lips and teeth moved onto his neck instead. The heat of Kyle's hands was easily matched by that of his mouth, and each small bruise Kyle's playful biting left on Stan's skin felt like a coal had been pressed to it. Kyle bit down close to Stan's shoulder, a little too hard, and Stan had to stifle a cry.

Kyle looked up, then down quickly. "Sorry," he murmured, and kissed the offended area.

Stan felt considerably better about the situation then, despite the realization that Kyle's hands were hard at work unbuttoning his jeans. Kyle really didn't want to hurt him, and no matter how weird this all got, he could at least keep that in mind. Still, he wasn't quite ready to give up and let his possessed friend have his way.

"H-how is this even gonna give you powers?" Stan asked in a vain attempt to stop the bizarre ritual.

Kyle shrugged, smiling slightly at the small victory of unzipping Stan's fly, "Fuck if I know, dude. Satanism is crazy shit."

Stan, not at all satisfied with that answer, took hold of Kyle's hand before it could slip inside his pants. It was frighteningly hard to hold onto such a thin wrist- that power Kyle had been talking about had to already be taking effect.

Looking annoyed by the interruption, Kyle said, "I'm supposed to taint you. Steal your purity and stuff."

Stan wanted to bang his head against the tree.

"I'm not a virgin, dude! You know that!"

Wendy Testaburger, though very difficult to hold onto as far as long term relationships were concerned, had been a great on-off girlfriend, and something of a beast in bed. Much of the same firey attitude Wendy exhibited could be found in Kyle, actually. Which was maybe why Stan's body was responding so well to all of this. Maybe. He hoped that was a good enough explanation.

"I know you're not a virgin, Stan." Kyle said sharply, and tugged his wrist out of Stan's grip with what appeared to be minimal effort, "But you've never been fucked in the ass before, have you?"

No, Stan could honestly say that he had not. But in reality, Stan couldn't say much of anything, because Kyle's hand had been promptly shoved into his briefs only seconds ago, and the hot touch of his fingers turned Stan's brain to jelly. His legs followed suit, knees nearly buckling as Kyle maneuvered unnecessary clothing out of the way to stroke Stan freely. They were just teasing touches, normally nothing to write home about, but they left Stan gripping the bark of the tree behind him, scrabbling for a hold.

"Stay." Kyle said, and took his hand away. He turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing, stooping to pick up whatever it was that the fox had brought them. Stan, shocked by the sudden absence of heat from the more sensitive regions of his body, didn't have the sense of mind to disobey the gentle order. Nor did he have the willpower to keep from continuing his obedience when Kyle came back, a small plastic tube in hand, and said, "Spread." The deliciously hot touch returned to his cock, fingers brushing over the head, down the length of it, before edging behind his balls.

Now what had Kyle said before about being fucked in the ass?

"Uh-um, dude…."

Kyle glanced up at him, saying nothing, but continued the same teasing touches from earlier as he popped open the cap of the tube in his other hand with the flick of a thumb. He stopped teasing for a moment to turn the tube upside down, squeezing a slippery looking gel onto his fingers.

Stan's stomach flipped nervously as he realized what was in the tube, and even caught a glimpse of the words "personal lubricant."

Well, at least they wouldn't be using his blood.

There was no question of whether Stan was ready or not, no warning of what Kyle was about to do, just the feeling of a slicked finger nudging, rubbing, teasing still, then pressing inside him. Stan gasped and stiffened at the strange sensation, and Kyle took to kissing him as a form of distraction.

"Calm down, "Kyle murmured against his lips, his tone somewhat mocking, "I can't sacrifice you if you won't even let me get a finger in."

Stan was going to punch him later, he swore it.

After a few deep breaths, Stan was able to relax a little. The finger already inside him pressed deeper, began moving in and then out of him, and was joined by another. It seemed like no time at all before Kyle was working three fingers into him and Stan was, well, frankly, a hot mess.

"Ky-" Stan panted, not looking at his friend, "Kyle, dude, s-seriously-"

He didn't even know what he was trying to achieve in speaking. He may have wanted to ask Kyle to stop, or maybe tell him to keep going, or…something else. He had no idea, what with his brain feeling so fuzzy and far-gone.

Kyle made a low noise of agreement, a "hm" in response to Stan's nonsensical murmuring, "Yeah…" He said thoughtfully, "That should do."

Stan lowered his head from its current position (i.e; thrown back in mid-moan,) and blinked at Kyle in confusion, "What should what?"

The heat inside him lingered as Kyle removed his fingers, but Stan still frowned at the loss. He knew he ought to be happy not to have something stuck up his ass, but he had honestly been enjoying that and now that it was over- now that it was over…they'd be moving on, wouldn't they? Stan's nerves came back to gnaw at his insides, flipping his sensitive stomach unpleasantly.

"U-um….dude, I dunno if, um…" Stan tried to throw together a coherent sentence while he watched Kyle undress the rest of the way, taking even his hat off. He couldn't help but study Kyle's body, noting the ways his best friend's figure differed from any of the ones that he would usually consider desirable. Kyle was taller than any girl Stan had ever liked (petite girls were so fucking cute he couldn't stand it,) and thinner than most, too. He had a nice ass, Stan had to give him that, but he had no hips to speak of. And to even try to imagine Kyle with breasts made Stan's mind spin into some kind of awkward fifth dimension of pain and confusion, so he didn't bother.

Kyle wasn't his type- wasn't even a girl! But the past few minutes had blurred the set lines in Stan's mind that made him so sure he was straight. Now, looking at his naked best friend, Stan was wondering why he'd never really _looked_ at Kyle before.

Kyle looked up from the task he'd been concentrated on, slicking his own cock with what was left in that small bottle of lube, and met Stan's eyes. He smirked, smug as anything, and said, "It's funny how you always said you were straight."

Stan's face went hot all over again and he self-consciously lowered his hands from their position on the tree behind him to cover himself a little, "I _am _straight!"

"_Sure_." Kyle said sarcastically, mockingly, and before Stan could figure out the best way to kick him in the nuts from his current angle, had closed the space between them and kissed him.

Kyle's lips warmed Stan's own, an in an instant his anger was gone. Later, he promised himself, when he wasn't so preoccupied with being horny as all fuck, he would beat the shit out of Kyle.

If he _could_, even.

Stan gasped in surprise as Kyle's arms went around his midsection, sliding down his body until hands cupped his thighs and lifted. Kyle picked him up right off the ground, holding him in the air just long enough for Stan to panic and unsuccessfully try to wrap his still partially clothed legs around Kyle's waist, then knelt down and laid Stan out on the cool ground.

Sprawled on a non-too-soft bed of pine needles and leaves that had seen better days, Stan gaped in shock, "How the fuck-"

"Demon powers." Kyle said shortly, and pulled one hand back to tap at the pentagram on his chest, "Already doing some good."

Stan wasn't sure how good it was that his best friend could pick him up and maneuver him into whatever sexual position he wanted to complete a Satanic ritual, but- whatever. As long as Kyle was happy.

And, in fact, he looked happy as he dragged Stan's sneakers off, making room to pull his jeans and boxers off as well.

"Dude-" he commented, looking slightly disgusted, "No socks?"

Stan flipped him off, because they'd had this discussion at least a hundred times before. Stan thought socks were annoying and unnecessary and avoided wearing them whenever possible, while Kyle argued that socks were practically the only thing keeping us apart from the apes. Socks, for Christ's sake. The whole thing was ridiculous and Stan didn't want to get into it right now. Which was for the best, since Kyle seemed to have moved past it as well.

Kyle was, instead, spreading Stan's legs, much to his embarrassment, and making himself quite comfortable between them. His hands seemed to have cooled somewhat, but wherever Kyle's torso brushed his legs, heat sparked along Stan's skin.

"A-and this is it, right?" Stan asked as Kyle pulled his t-shirt up and off his body in a surprisingly fluid motion. He was partly looking for reassurance that he wouldn't get killed, but mostly just trying to stall the inevitable.

Kyle looked at him seriously and, rather than answer him, said, "Stan, do you seriously not want me to do this?"

Stan bit at his lower lip. Stalling, stalling- god, Kyle was getting annoyed now. "No, I-" He wet his lips with his tongue, shook his head, "I'm just…nervous. Is all. And don't fucking laugh at me." Kyle was smiling and it was pissing him off.

"I'm not laughing at you," Kyle said matter of factly, and thrust into him. Slowly, carefully, not hurting- as promised.

Stan closed his mouth tight, biting down on his tongue to keep from making any noise. He'd thought Kyle's fingers were hot enough- he should have known better. The sudden surge of heat he felt now that Kyle was inside him was, for a few seconds, almost unbearable. It didn't burn, exactly, but it was so overwhelmingly _hot_, he couldn't see straight. He stared blankly up at the sky, just trying to keep his breathing even as Kyle's heat flooded through him.

After a little more time spent zoned out, he heard Kyle ask, "You alright?"

His voice sounded a little strained, and Stan was secretly pleased to hear it. At least he knew he was a good fuck so far. "I better not get fucking heat stroke, dude…"  
Kyle took that as a go ahead, because seconds later Stan felt hands on his hips, gripping gently as Kyle picked up a rhythm that suited him. It suited Stan too, he soon found, because as good as Kyle's fingers had started to feel, other parts of Kyle felt damn good as well. Stan worked his fingers into the leaves and grit around him, loosely holding, then damn near clinging to the ground, as Kyle fucked him. The pace picked up, and Kyle picked _him_ up, holding onto Stan's hips and angling his body slightly, slightly until Stan's back arched and a sharp cry ripped itself from his throat.

"_Fuck_, dude-" he said in a near whine, then gasped again as a spark of something almost as hot as Kyle himself raced up his spine. Kyle repeated Stan's words in a low moan, digging his nails harder into Stan's skin as he thrust into him with more force.

Stan was sure he'd be aching later, but at the moment he didn't care about anything. Those fucking Christmas Critters could scamper up and threaten to skullfuck him and he'd just ignore them.

Stan could feel his shirt riding up, could feel something slightly sharp and uncomfortable scraping up against the middles of his back, and he tried to distract himself from it by focusing on the way Kyle was holding his hips. But then, that hurt a bit too.

He couldn't help but wonder if Kyle had some kind of weird fetish for rough sex that he didn't know about. Of course they'd discussed fetishism in the past, being the absolute best of friends after all, and while Stan had told Kyle about his obsession with girls in torn tank tops and Kyle had admitted to being more than slightly turned on by those weird teacher/student scenarios in porn, nothing about Kyle's sadistic streak had ever come up. Maybe it was just the result of being full of demonic power or something. Whatever it was, Stan found it both unsettling and a little bit exciting.

"D-dude-" Stan said finally, when the scratching was becoming too annoying to ignore, "Hurts-"

Kyle looked momentarily panicked, and slowed his movements, "Where…what?"

So much for a sadistic streak. Stan shook his head, not wanting Kyle to think he'd done something wrong, "B-back. Something fucking…scratching the shit outta me-"

Kyle solved the problem by hiking Stan's hips up higher, and grinned at his own unintentional victory when the newly created angle succeeded in dragging another gasping cry out of Stan.

"Was that a- a _please _I h-heard?" Kyle asked smugly, then turned his attention to trying to balance Stan and get a hand around his cock at the same time.

Stan managed to stammer a desperate, "No it wasn't!" Before Kyle worked out his little balancing act. The fingers of his left hand wrapped around Stan's cock, stroking him quickly, while his right hand stayed at Stan's hip, apparently holding him up. Fucking ridiculous demon powers…Stan was going to shoot those Critters, seriously.

"Fucking…come already-" Kyle complained (ordered?,) red eyes flashing, and that was all the encouragement Stan needed. His fingers clenched around the leaves on either side of him as he moaned brokenly and came into Kyle's hand. An instant later, Kyle's fingers were pressing into Stan's hip hard enough to bruise and he couldn't muster the energy to ask him to stop. Looking up at Kyle he could see that his friend looked almost pained, eyes clenched shut, jaw set stubbornly in place. There was a tenseness to him, even as he kept thrusting, that made Stan honestly scared.

Then he gasped, coming free of whatever had a hold on him, and came with a moaned swear.

Kyle carefully, though a bit shakily, lowered Stan back to lay flat on the ground. They didn't look at each other, too focused on afterglow and exhaustion. Personally, Stan was breathless. Breathless wasn't a good state for an asthmatic person, and he found himself wheezing for air as his body finally cooled down.

Kyle pulled out and rolled over to lay beside him in the brush, looking flushed enough to match his new body temperature. The silence stretched between them, and Stan would have been unnerved by it, had he been focused on much more than breathing.

"So, um…" Kyle began finally, and sat up slightly to look down at Stan. Stan stared back expectantly and Kyle lolled his head to the side, looking both apologetic and slightly overwhelmed.

"Sorry about that, dude," Kyle said, "I don't know what came over me."

Stan promptly punched him in the arm, using just about all the strength he had left in him. "Oh no," he said warningly, "Don't give me that bullshit! You were totally in control of everything you were doing, you fuckin' liar."

Kyle looked surprised for a moment then, embarrassed at being found out, looked away, grinning. "Yeah, I guess I was."

"Townsfolk always warned me the gays were just lookin' to rape us fine straight boys," Stan teased tiredly, muffling his speech slightly as he threw an arm over his face to cover his eyes. He smiled when he heard Kyle laugh, and slipped back into a more serious tone to ask, "So um…can I have my pants? It's fucking cold without you all…on top of me."

"Um…" Kyle hesitated and Stan wondered if he was thinking about just climbing back on top of him instead. Stan wasn't sure if he'd mind all that much, and that freaked him out a little. "Yeah. Yeah, sure dude."

Stan sat up to watch Kyle crawl across the clearing in search of his pants and hissed in pain.

The fucking….whatever that had scratched him. Son of a bitch, those scratches stung like motherfuck.

"Y'alright?" Kyle asked, now working on separating the pants he'd found from the boxers stuck inside them. He came back up alongside Stan and bent down to look at his back. Stan heard him suck in a gasp and mutter a curse.

"Is it bad?" Stan asked wearily. He tried to glance over his shoulder at his own back and saw the end of one scratch. Long, thin, and not too deep. It'd be annoying, but not a big deal. He looked back up at Kyle, prepared to tell him that he shouldn't worry, but began to worry himself when he saw his friend's sickened expression.

"What?"

Kyle sat back and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the curls while he muttered a string of curses under his breath, then muttered some louder ones when he realized he'd just gotten spooge in his hair.

"Dude," Stan said, becoming irritated in his anxiousness, "_What?_"

Kyle looked up at him, his face pale, and snapped, "I made you fucking bleed!"

Stan narrowed his eyes in confusion and said, slowly, "Kyle, it's okay…"

"It's not okay!" Kyle said, a frantic edge to his voice, "I made you fucking bleed on the stupid motherfucking tablet!"

Stan turned around to look at the surface he'd been laying on and saw that the scattered leaves only barely covered portions of stone in the ground. Flat, cold, with crude carvings etched into its surface, Stan could even identify the point of a pentagram that had caught his skin. There wasn't a lot of blood, nothing to be upset over medically speaking, but it was still blood and it was still smeared across the stone.

"I don't get it," Stan said, still staring down at the stained carvings. And then he got it. Everything clicked into place and he looked at Kyle blankly, "Oh. Don't tell me…you could _fuck_ me to get your powers…but you had to spill my blood to start the end of the world?"

Kyle looked like he was going to be the one to throw up for a change. He nodded, saying very quietly, "I just signaled the start of the apocalypse."

Like something out of the set for a horror movie, a flock of black birds came spilling out of the forest around them, rising into the sky as the clouds turned dark. Something in the air pressure shifted, pressing into every living thing and dragging all joy out of the atmosphere. Somewhere, a group of Satanic critters cheered. And in a clearing in the middle of the woods, two friends stared at each other, completely at a loss.

.

.

.

* * *

Questions? Comments? Requests? Send me your thoughts in a review.


End file.
